


Reminiscence

by antiva



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Suicide mention, like really emotional i might have shed a tear while writing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 05:32:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2055561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antiva/pseuds/antiva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A week after Amy Dyer's funeral, the eternally eighteen year old man named Kieren Walker stands in front of her bungalow for the first time since that day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reminiscence

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work in this fandom. It's kind of self indulgent; I'm all about Kierick, Siren and how these ships relate to each other. Enjoy.

A week after Amy Dyer's funeral, the eternally eighteen year old man named Kieren Walker stands in front of her bungalow for the first time since that day.  
  
It is not empty. As he inhales shakily and knocks on the door twice, he knows for sure who's going to open. The white eyes that show up in the entrance along with the rest of Simon Monroe are the only parts of him that show surprise. His stance is still casual, and his face doesn't really express anything but some kind of content.  
  
“Kieren. I'm glad you're here,” he says matter-of-factly, turning sideways to let the aforementioned man in. But Kieren won't look him into the eye before he shakes his head, hands fumbling in his pockets nervously. Only then does he look up, his face tense, features softening slightly after meeting Simon's eyes. He always works that way. Soothing.  
  
“I wanted to take you out somewhere,” Kieren smiles with his lips only, chin trembling. It's chilly, but he doesn't feel the cold. He's clearly emotional.  
  
Simon's eyebrows shoot up slightly, he purses his lower lip in that specific way only he can pull off, and he nods, half in agreement, half to tell Kieren to wait where he is. The younger man nods shakily – it seems his whole existence is, at this very moment, shaking and trembling. Again, you'd say he's cold, but he isn't.  
  
Obviously, Simon comes back out in the exact same attire; he's just put on his big, old, honestly quite awful jacket over his equally as big, old, and awful outfit. He seems reassured, though, and if that's what it takes, Kieren will be okay with it. The keys are turned in the lock and Simon smiles. This time it's a real smile, reaching his eyes, full of endearment. It's warm. Kieren's here.  
  
“So, where do you want to go?” Simon asks, half-light, sensing it is not just a random day trip like those Kieren has taken to do for the past six days. He used to call for Simon to meet him halfway; now he went all the way to the bungalow, despite it being a place they just do not mention for the time being. There will be a time in Kieren's grief when they talk it through. Not yet.  
  
Kieren shakes his head. Leads the way. Bites his lower lip. Simon doesn't force him to talk.  
  
They pass Jem on the way. She smiles at her brother reassuringly, and nods to the both of them in greeting. As an afterthought, she shows a thumbs-up to Kieren, then carries on walking wherever she plans to go. A small smile lingers on his face as he turns to Simon for a fraction of a second.  
  
Soon, they step into the woods, and that only leaves a small number of places Kieren might want to go to. One of them being that one barn and fireplace where they first had that private conversation. Simon's steps are more confident now that he suspects where they're heading.  
  
Kieren stops short once they reach a small clearing, now full of leaves and generally unpleasant. There should be snow, but instead it's just cold, rotten browns and yellows everywhere. The sun struggles to get through the branches everywhere else, but here it shines with no trouble, its bright streaks of light illuminating the ugly place. Their shoes would be gross when they get out of here.  
  
“Simon,” Kieren starts, then clears his throat. He won't look up, though he'd be met with attentive eyes and an expression of utter adoration, contained only in the small wrinkles at the corners of the eyes and the slight stretch of the lips; clear as bell all the same. There's only his voice and a lonely bird singing its tune somewhere around here; otherwise, it's perfectly quiet.  
  
“I just, uh, if you want, we can forget about this as soon as it ends.” And with these words, Kieren nods to himself and walks further into the forest, steps barely balanced. Simon follows hesitantly.  
  
They end up on another clearing, this one bigger, rocks creating a moderately high cliff, big letters claiming “BEWARE ROTTERS” next to something that looks like an entrance to a cave. Kieren stops, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Simon watches, his eyes widening as the younger man extends his hand towards him, still not looking. He takes it. Kieren's lips stretch into a small smile as the grip tightens, warm though their bodies are cold. Slowly, he steps down, leading the older man with him as they approach the entrance.  
  
Kieren lets go of Simon's hand and breathes in heavily. He then nods towards one of the rocks.  
  
“I died here,” he breathes, chuckle-like. “I, I took a knife, I slit my wrists open and watched as blood spilled out. It was everywhere, and I-” he lets out a small laugh, “I felt relief. Just relief. Everything else flew out, guilt, and pain, and – everything.” He throws a look at Simon, something hysterical in that gesture. The man nods, stance stoic as ever, and that seems to be enough. “Come on,” Kieren says, and steps into the cave, pulling a flashlight out of his pocket and turning it on.  
  
Kieren walks down the narrow corridor and sits down where the cave becomes wider; the entrance is barely visible, giving enough light not to get lost, but not enough to notice the details. As Simon sits down next to him, Kieren stares up at the writings on one of the walls. He points the light at the biggest one, the most important. Simon's face falls as he reads it.  
  
“I thought this would be true,” Kieren half-whispers, “but then it wasn't.”  
  
“Why?” is what the older man asks, frowning.  
  
A beat.  
  
“He fucking died, Simon. What is there to 'why' about,” Kieren cringes, looking up at Simon with anger and disgust. “He died, then, and again when we came back and there was a chance to repair it! There is no fucking forever, it was ruined, twice, by me and his damn father and there is nothing - _nothing_ that can ever make it right.” His voice breaks on the last word, his face crumbling, eyes wet with tears.  
  
“Rick made you who you are now,” Simon replies, calm. “There is a forever. What he did to change you – it's not something that will ever vanish.”  
  
“Ever the philosopher,” Kieren snorts. “He was supposed to be here, next to me, alive- but I had to fucking ruin it. And yeah, it changed me, guess what! This is why I took you here. I was supposed to be this- this calm, happy person. I was supposed to go study, to travel, I don't know, to live. But I ruined it, not once, but fucking twice. Rick could have changed me, Simon, he could. But instead I had to fuck up, and now, now I'm this half-dead half-whatever piece of- of nothing really.” He stutters, barely being able to take a breath between the sentences, choking on his tears. “I had to show you,” he whispers, “so you'd know I am not- not really this, this collected person, or whatever. I am just a pathetic thing.”  
  
The older man sighs, still looking up at the scribbles covering the grey rock. “I said it once, you are incredible, Kieren. I don't want to repeat myself.”  
  
“You are so fucking frustrating,” Kieren snarls.  
  
“I know.”  
  
Their eyes meet, as they sit next to each other; Kieren blinking quickly, desperately trying to see clearly despite the tears, Simon's face fallen, eyes tired, yet still focused on the younger man. They hold the breaths they don't really need; there is silence and the air is still, but then Kieren exhales abruptly and turns as his head lands on Simon's shoulder. He fidgets until his forehead is right in the crook of Simon's neck and breathes in, as if inhaling his smell. But there's nothing there; they're not alive, after all. Still, it's safety.  
  
Kieren's breathing gets quieter and slower as minutes pass. His shoulders are not shaking anymore as he lifts his head and sits back again.  
  
“Maybe you're right,” he says, staring straight ahead, not really seeing.  
  
“Maybe I am,” Simon nods.  
  
The quiet, though still loaded with tension, is now much lighter to be in. It lasts for a while, the breaths of two young undead people in sync. The air in the cave is not stale, but not fresh. Enough of the wind gets in to make it okay.  
  
“He was the most important person to me,” Kieren mutters slowly. “He motivated me to start painting for real. To apply to art school. To live, really.”  
  
Simon doesn't reply. The story isn't his to tell.  
  
“I- I really thought we were gonna live together. Spend our lives together. That stuff. I was all set on it, and then-” Kieren sighs. “I didn't think his father would do that. I thought it was just, a small thing, he'd ground him or whatever. But he sent him to his fucking death.”  
  
“And you can't stop blaming yourself for it,” Simon concludes.  
  
“Yeah. It's just, if not for my persistence, he'd never– his _father_ did it, I know. Twice. I know. But, if not for me? What would have happened?”  
  
“He was the way he was. You did not have anything to do with that. His father would know anyway, believe me.”  
  
“I... still can't get over the _guilt_ ,” Kieren hides his face in his hands, though he already seems way calmer than he was.  
  
“It's okay.”  
  
For the first time since entering the cave, Kieren's expression brightens as he looks up to meet Simon's gaze. The moment is intimate; the white, dead eyes of both switch between each other's eyes and lips.  
  
Kieren turns away. “I am not going to kiss you every time you're nice to me, you know,” he chuckles, outright grinning up at Simon, whose face is now a mixture of surprise and happy endearment, eyebrows raised along with the corners of his mouth. Soon though, that expression falls, and he half-smiles.  
  
“It's only your choice,” he replies.  
  
“Yeah, why exactly?” asks Kieren, sitting up as he stares at Simon in amusement. “Want to prove to me chivalry's not dead?” He smirks. “Unlike us?”  
  
“Something like that, yes,” Simon chuckles. His face becomes more serious as he says, “I don't want to be intrusive.” He shrugs.  
  
“Oh, you're a dick,” the younger man laughs in disbelief, turning around, “now I _have_ to do that.” He leans in, but as their faces are less than an inch apart, he stops and backs up. “Why the hell would kissing me be intrusive?”  
  
“You still grieve,” Simon starts to explain, “grieve after someone you loved. I want to let you finish the process so that you don't feel... crowded, I guess.”  
  
“You,” Kieren nearly exclaims, frowning, “are weird. I have no idea how Amy put up with you.” And there is no awkwardness at the mention of her, no sadness at all, because she might be gone, but for the time being she is _there_ in the mention of her name alone.  
  
As Kieren leans in and pulls Simon into a long, grateful kiss, he could swear he can almost hear her laughing. She'd say something along the lines of, “high five, handsome,” and run away, giggling, telling them to get a room.  
“Whatever experiences you had,” Simon murmurs as they break the kiss, “I am glad they made you who you are now.”  
  
Kieren's face falls. He blinks, looking between the other man's chest and his eyes, something like fear in his features. Or longing.  
  
“Same,” he replies, then nods nervously and quickly gets to his feet. He almost turns and goes, but then, as if in an afterthought, extends his hand to Simon. “Come on,” he mutters, and the older man takes the hand offered and gets up also. He lets go, expecting Kieren to do the same, but no, he holds on. So Simon does, as well.  
  
The fingers of Kieren Walker and Simon Monroe are intertwined as they carefully step out of the cave, possibly leaving it behind forever.


End file.
